When I was in second year university it sort of dawned on me that I had never really been to the US. I mean, I had been to Danville and stuff to get cheap gas in 2003 but I stopped doing that when I realized that US gas is actually of really poor quality and my car burned through it considerably faster than real gas. But apart from that, I never really had a reason to ever cross the border. I could see the US from my house, so I knew what I was missing and I was very, very comfortable with it. However, Bush's reelection in 2004 brought droves and droves of nubile young co-eds from various states to Vancouver who wanted to either snowboard, smoke weed, study at UBC, or enjoy a very non-explosive and actually very relaxed combination of all three. It's because of this that I learned that in the United States they have a LOT of discounted retail outlets, and as a result I learned there is a store called "OshKosh B'Gaosh!" To date, this blog post has been the only practical application I have for this entire experience.
I landed in Osh in late afternoon with dusk approaching quickly. This always worries me because I had Google-mapped the location of the airport in relation to the city and it was less than favourable. In fact, for some reason I didn't zoom out far enough to understand where exactly I had to go. I figured things would just work out. I was in southern Kyrgyzstan--why would't they? After I disembarked from the plane I was herded into a section outside where we were to wait for our luggage. It was a long wait, but well worth it when a tractor and attached trailer backed into us, the ground crew opened the back hatch, and all our luggage tumbled out onto the ground. Thankful that I didn't pack anything glass (and simultaneously coping with any feelings of loss if I had) I picked up my bag, dusted it off, and walked out of the controlled area to where I expected a plethora of buses and marshrutki to whisk me away to the centre of Osh. Since there were none, and the ones that did exist were not interested in picking me up, I decided to walk.
I walked for a pretty considerable time too. I mean, I was expecting loads of people to stop and feel sorry for me. Why wouldn't they feel sorry for me? I'm a Canadian citizen on vacation with enough money to fly to Kyrgyzstan and I refuse to pay for a taxi--take pity on me, people of the Fergana Valley. I reached a junction in the road where I figured a marshrutka would come from. I was at the confluence of two roads, surely something would pick me up. A group of women approached from the other road and I assume they felt the same way. The oldest spoke Russian, as old women are wont to do, and we both determined that no marshrutka was coming from either road. She took it upon herself to stop the next available car and let the driver know that for a small fee he would be driving us to Osh. Lucky guy.
We rolled into some peripheral part of Osh and the driver told us that this was the final stop. The ladies were pleased because it was next to a market and apparently they loved late night shopping. I decided that this was my chance to pay the full fare and act like some kind of hero but no one said anything and it either went unnoticed or unappreciated and I wasn't able to claim that later on when extracting privileges for myself in future scenarios.
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